Broken
by gammafrostradiation
Summary: Bruce Banner's greatest nightmare is realized when he wakes up next to a mangled, bloody body.


The first thing Loki felt at the sight of the green monster was fear. Paralyzing terror that shocked his limbs and shut down his brain. Even knowing that Bruce was somewhere deep in the mind of the beast helped nothing. Loki had felt the effect of the Hulk's rage once before. And once was enough. But he couldn't move for his fear. He watched, helpless, as the Hulk advanced on him. He felt the large, green hand encircle his body. He screamed as the first bones began to snap.

Bruce woke up in a pile of rubble, caked in dirt and dust. As usual. His muscles cried out agony as he sat up, looking around him for the smallest stitch of clothing and finding none. He sighed and drew his knees to his chest, dangling his hands by his ankles. It was then he noticed the reddish tint. It was then he saw the trail of blood. He fought to remain calm, to think rationally. But the last person he remembered being with was…Loki.

He got to his feet as fast as he could, ignoring the burn of fire underneath his skin. Stumbling, limping, he followed the crimson stream. It led him to a corner of whatever the building was that he was in. And in that corner, slumped his partner, broken and bloody.

"Loki?" Bruce's voice was a hoarse whisper. "Loki." The battered form became blurry as tears began to leak from brown eyes. He crept slowly towards him, kneeling carefully at his mangled side. "Please don't be gone. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. Loki…" The god's eyes creaked open, and Bruce instinctively scooted away, wanting to remove himself from Loki's side to protect him from further harm.

"Bruce…," Loki rasped, weak, drained, consumed with pain. He tried to reach for him, but knives shot through his arms when he attempted to lift them. A coughing fit stole over him and blood dribbled from the corners of his mouth. "Bruce…," he beckoned again, beckoning him close with his eyes.

But Bruce barely saw the need in those glassy, green orbs. What he saw was the terror rawly portrayed by pupils and irises. Betty had that look in her eyes after he had hurt her, too. Love and fear. He had half a mind to run, to turn away from all this. This moment of history repeating itself. It summed up why he never believed relationships to be in the cards for him. He was better off alone where he couldn't hurt anyone. The want, the need, in Loki's eyes, however, drove him forward to kneel again at his side.

Bruce didn't miss the flinch. He heard the incoherent ramblings of a man trying to escape pain he can't run from. Loki's legs were twisted at odd angles. One arm was completely flattened from wrist to shoulder. The other hung limply, its shoulder dislocated. Blood mixed with saliva as it dripped steadily from Loki's lips. "Shhh, Loki." He smoothed the ebony hair back from his face gently. "Shhh. I'm going to fix this. I promise."

The fluorescent lighting of the hospital cast ghastly shadows on Loki's face, making the natural hollows seem deeper, gaunter. Bruce sat in a chair by the bedside, dressed in clothes he'd asked Tony to bring. He looked nearly as bad as the bed's occupant. Dark circles ringed his eyes and more lines criss-crossed his weary, sad face. He held a doctor's observations in his hands, going over injuries for the hundredth time. Both legs broken, five ribs cracked, three more broken, one of which had punctured a lung. Multiple abrasions and lacerations of varying degrees, the worst beginning at Loki's right hip and cutting diagonally to his left shoulder. Mercifully, it hadn't been deep enough to do severe damage. Internal bleeding, a fractured skull, one ear half torn off. The list went on and on. He knew Loki would be able to heal himself as good as new given time but that didn't change the fact that _he_ had done this to him. _He_ had put him the hospital to lie shrunken and deathly pale in a hard bed, morphine melting through his blood, evaporating the pain. Bruce had caused this. All because he thought he was better, thought he had enough control to keep this from happening. Again. He was a fool. To think he could have a relationship with someone. To think he could have anything close to a normal life. He should never have left India. But, as usual, his curiosity had gotten the best of him. It always did. And this cat was on its last life.

His hands clenched around the clipboard, snapping it with a resounding crack. He threw the pieces at the opposite wall and immediately regretted the action at the resulting groan from Loki.

"Bruce…," he whispered, struggling to open his eyes against the harsh light. His limbs were lead and his mouth tasted of rusty nails and cotton balls. His body held a phantom ache as if real, terrible pain were lurking just beyond his senses. "Bruce," he whispered again, searching blindly for the man.

Lightly, Bruce touched his face. "I'm here, Loki. You need to be quiet. Okay? Just rest. Go back to sleep. You'll be all right." He gently brushed his thumb along his cheekbone, careful not to upset the oxygen apparatus wrapped around his face, feeding through both nostrils. He stood and slowly, as if Loki were fragile glass to break at the slightest pressure, kissed his temple.

"Don't…don't leave me alone, Bruce," he murmured. "I know…I know you feel responsible for this but…but you have no need to. I don't…I don't blame you, Bruce."

Bruce set his jaw against his tears and pulled back, removing all touch from Loki's body. "You should, Loki," he answered quietly, oh so quietly. "If I had never asked…you wouldn't be plastered in splints and casts and stuck with IV needles. You wouldn't have a shattered arm, a torn lung, a sewn up ear. I let this happen. I should've been able to have more control but—" He was stopped by the touch of a finger on his knuckle.

"Stop it, Bruce. This was not your doing. Your monster has never liked me and to be so close—"

Bruce abruptly turned away and began pacing. "That's the entire point, Loki! If you _weren't _with me, it would never have happened. Because _I _had you there, it did. Therefore, this is my fault." His eyes settled on the broken figure, an unquenchable sadness pooling in their depths. "I think you'll be better off without me."

A passage in Loki's chest shut tight, making him panic, his heartbeat spiking. _Beepbeepbeepbeep_ rang the monitor. "No. Bruce, no. You can't…please…I chose to be there by your side! No one was forcing my presence. I knew the danger and yet I still came."

"Why?" Bruce grabbed at his own hair and dug his nails into his scalp. "Why would you _want_ to be with a monster?"

"There is a man behind the monster. A kind, gentle man. A man I see at this moment. A man I care about and can't live without. If you leave me, Bruce, I am as good as dead." Loki's own tears were spilling, and he could barely breathe.

"You say that now. But you'd move on. You don't need me. I'm replaceable, disposable." Bruce swallowed, finding the action difficult for the lump blocking his esophagus. "You'll be fine. I…I can't bear to hurt you again, Loki. And what if I do more than hurt you? What if I wake up drenched in your blood, your body an unrecognizable carcass beside me? That's the nightmare I've never shared with you. The Hulk ripping you into pieces while I can do nothing but watch." And there was that fear again, back in those green eyes. "Even you couldn't heal yourself of that, Loki. I have to leave for your own good. I was waiting for you to wake up. So I could tell you. I didn't want to just disappear on you. But this is good-bye. You'll never see me again. With one last look, he headed for the door._ I love you_, he thought as he slipped through, closing it tightly on the erupting screams.

"Bruce! No! Come back! Bruce!" Loki tore at the restraining needles and tubes, his movements clumsy with the bulky casts. The morphine was wearing off, and the pain began to flood his senses. "No! Please!" He let out a throaty scream, tearing open the patched lung. Nurses rushed in, fighting to strap him down and get sedatives into his system. Loki struggled, thinking maybe, maybe if he hurt himself enough, Bruce would have to come back. A needle slipped into his arm, feeding sleepy chemicals into his veins, lessening the volume of his screams by the second, leaning him to whisper, "Bruce," before succumbing to the black.

Bruce heard the screams, heard his name, but kept walking, a steady procession of tears falling from his eyes.

When Loki woke again, bleary from the drugs, he remained silent, his throat raw. He remained silent and simple cried, knowing Bruce was long gone, knowing that he was never coming back.


End file.
